The Song Remains The Same
by givemebrandy
Summary: The Doctor and Martha end up in Victor Hugo's world of the barricades, and can't change anything very sorry for any faults in the events/anything that doesn't quite fit the time period I didn't proof read it properly
1. Chapter 1

'Excuse me, mademoiselle, you may want to put on a skirt,' Martha looked around to find a young man with dark blonde hair gently touching her shoulder to get her attention, 'this part of Paris is a bit rough, you wouldn't want to give the men the wrong impression. I've seen it end nastily.'

'Oh…thank you, I'll…yes I'll change' Martha looked down at her usually so practical jeans and frowned. She hadn't expected to be ending up in mid-nineteenth century Paris, but something had messed up…again. She was just taking a walk while she waited for the Doctor to come back.

'What's your name?' she asked the youth, hoping to maybe find a guide

'Combeferre, at your service,' he said as he shook her hand,

'Martha,' she responded with a smile.'

'You look a little lost, would you like any directions?' Another, slightly shorter man had bounced up behind Combeferre, and introduced himself as Courfeyrac with a bright grin.

'Erm, well I'm not here for long, I was just taking a walk, I don't really know anywhere, or anything' Martha replied

'She should totally come to the Musain,' Courfeyrac said to Combeferre, who nodded in agreement, 'Just a one off' he said to Martha, taking her arm and leading her down the street.

'It's a café where we meet with some friends sometimes and just…talk' Courfeyrac started to explain

'About politics mostly, but sometimes we have to try to hold interventions for Grantaire, or convince Joly he's actually not sick' elaborated Combeferre.

They had turned down a small street and she could see the sign of 'Café Musain' on the door of a small, cosy looking building, when a group of seven or eight young men, and a girl dressed as a man burst out, holding red flags, French flags, and wearing tricolour rosettes, shouting 'Vivé la France!'

Martha, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac were dragged along with them, as the blonde at the lead explained simply to them 'It's started. Lemarque's funeral'

Martha didn't quite understand what happened in the next couple of hours, somehow she seemed to have interrupted a funeral procession, built a barricade, started a revolution, and made friends with the girl dressed in the boy clothes, also Joly the hypochondriac medical student, because he trusted her judgement on his imagined maladies, as she had been able so successfully name every bone in the hand faster than he could. She just hoped the Doctor would somehow find her.

'MARTHA' called the Doctor, panic spreading through his chest. He couldn't lose her. Not another one. Not after Rose, 'MARTHAA'

'DOCTOR?' He sighed in relief as he heard her reply, 'I'M AT THE BARRICADE'


	2. Chapter 2

'At the…what?' The Doctor headed in the direction of her voice, ducking between buildings and debris from the barricades as he finally clearly understood what had happened. He knew they couldn't have been in the same universe, because it was just…different, and the TARDIS always reacted in strange ways to parallels. Looking around, slipping into the barricaded area, he realised which universe they had somehow ended up in. The Doctor looked up to find a blonde in a red jacket aiming a shotgun at his head. He grinned.

'Ah, you must be Enjolras' his grin slipped as he remembered the fate of this young revolutionary, a fate he couldn't change, 'Yes, I'm here for my friend Martha, and to join in your revolution I think'

'Don't shoot!' Martha barrelled out of the café, now wearing slightly more appropriate clothes she had borrowed from the girl, Éponine, Joly and Bossuet's girlfriend Musichetta, and a jacket Grantaire had grabbed from his lodgings before the barricades arose. Enjolras finally lowered the gun, having been introduced to Martha earlier.

'Oh thank God you're here!' Martha pulled the Doctor to his feet, as he was handed a gun.

'Oh no, no I don't do guns,' He sounded genuinely apologetic as he refused the gun the slender man in the odd mix of a flowered cravat, lilac waistcoat, deep red jacket and brown trousers handed him. Martha remembered his name was Jean Prouvaire. She wasn't sure why he had a first name and a surname, but the others seemed only to have one name, except the boy Éponine told her about, whom they referred to as both Marius and Pontmercy.

'So, did you fix the…thing?' Martha asked the Doctor as they sat in the wine shop while others milled about, organising things, eating, drinking. Grantaire had had a good few by now, and Martha was starting to worry about his health.

'Yes, yes all fixed' came the reply, 'However, we have ended up in a parallel universe, and it's a fictional one at that, so we have to be really careful not to change anything, you got that? Really, really careful. If we change anything, anything at all, it could eliminate a huge part of literary and musical culture, and erase many careers. So it's nothing life threatening…exactly, but just do not change a single thing'

'Yeah okay I won't don't worry,'

'It will be difficult though. Ideally, we'd get out tonight.'

'Okay, well how would we do that?'

'Honestly? I have no idea. We seem to be part of this revolution now, and I know what happens in the morning. Did you ever study any of the French Revolutions at school? Or read Les Miserables?'

'Studied it briefly, and I've seen Les Mis in the theatre, years ago, why?'

'Well, we've somehow ended up in Victor Hugo's world. These characters, this particular series of events is all his creation.'


	3. Chapter 3

After much confusion and discussion, Martha had just about given up. She now knew that everyone was going to die.

'They're attacking!' came a cry from outside. Musichetta grabbed Martha and took her down to where there was a man tied to a post.

'We have to make sure he doesn't escape while the men are fighting' she explained. Martha could see the fear in her eyes, tears being held back, and she grasped her hand.

'It'll be okay,' she said, knowing she was lying to the poor girl. Martha wondered which one she was with. She had thought Joly at first, but she had seen her be friendly with the bald fellow too. Come to think of it, she had seen the boys being rather friendly with each other. They heard the sounds of shots being fired, and Martha hugged Musichetta, and kept an eye on the spy, Javert, she remembered his name was. After what seemed like years, Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Enjolras descended the stairs.

'Joly? Bossuet?' asked Musichetta. She received solemn nods in return, and smiled, briefly, before asking, 'who?'

'Bahorel'

Musichetta sobbed, and ran up the stairs to be with her boys, mumbling that she knew he was going to die in a fight. Javert was untied, and taken upstairs to be retied where it was easier to keep track of him. Martha sat back next to the Doctor while they were checking names. One was missing, other than Bahorel. It was Jean Prouvaire, the little flowery one.

'Would you rather have him dead,' Combeferre asked, nodding at Javert, 'Or Jean Prouvaire alive?'

'I would rather Jean Prouvaire'

'Then it is done,' answered Courfeyrac, 'I will take a white flag and go over the barricade and exchange them.'

Before this could be done, they heard sounds of gunshots and struggling from outside the barricade. As they rushed to find out what was going on, they recognised Jean Prouvaire's voice:

'Long live the republic! Long live the fut-' his shouts were cut short by a short barrage of gunfire.

'They've killed him' said Courfeyrac, and turned slowly to walk back into the wine shop, his feet heavy, tears filling his eyes but refusing to fall.

Martha rushed back inside to the Doctor.

'They shot him!' she whispered, in shock, 'he's dead!'

'I know. And there will be more. We have to get out of here. Tonight.'


	4. Chapter 4

_(so sorry for the late update I was just so uninspired, I have an idea for the next bit so I should be able to update soon)_

'Okay, so…how do we get out?' Martha spoke quietly so only the Doctor would hear

'We have to get back to the TARDIS. But we can't let these people down. They'll be devastated if they lose any of their number'

'Well what are we going to do? Where is the TARDIS?'

'It's in the Luxembourg. It's a park nearby. I think we're going to have to…' the Doctor ran his hand through his hair, like he often did when he was stressed, 'we may have to …I dunno…fake our deaths or something.'

'Oh…kay…' Martha sat back on her stool and leant against the wall, 'What do we do and when do we start?'

'Right…this isn't gonna be easy, or nice. Tomorrow, the barricade falls, they all…' the Doctor paused, frowning, 'they all die. The only way out without going through the barricades is through the sewers, like Valjean will do later with Marius. In the morning, during all the confusion, we have to avoid getting shot or stabbed and get through the sewer.'

'The…sewer?' Martha was less than happy, 'While…we have to leave while they all die?!' Her voice rose in volume and pitch until the Doctor shushed her.

'Shh, let them have tonight, just stick with me when it gets light and we'll get out. I don't like it either, _believe_ me, but we can't save anyone, nothing can be changed, this isn't our universe.'

'All right, well, I'm gonna go see if there's anything I can do for anyone,' Martha got up and went over to Courfeyrac , who was visibly trying to hold back tears and maintain a smile as he sat in the corner by Grantaire, who was passed out slumped on the table.

'Are you all right? I mean…well, you lost two of your friends today,' she sat down opposite him, and rearranged Grantaire's arms so he would be comfortable and safe if he were to throw up, 'that can't be easy.'

'Yes…yes of course I'm fine, I mean, yes we lost Bahorel, our greatest fighter, and Jehan…Jean Prouvaire, our poet, our youngest member, the Romantic, who would shut himself in his garret for days at a time, drinking to rival _him_,' he gestured at Grantaire, 'and writing and writing and writing and writing and…he showed me some of the poetry he wrote during those times once…dark things, very raw and painful, yet he was still full of life, and he didn't want to die this way he had so many plans, and…' Courfeyrac's control broke, and he fell forward in the almost empty wine shop into Martha's arms. She held him and rocked him, but she didn't know how to calm him, or tell him it would be all right. Because she knew it wouldn't. The best it would get is that he could join his friend and his…Martha suspected possibly slightly more than friend…along with the rest of Les Amis, in death.

Meanwhile, the Doctor had started helping the two medical students, Joly and Combeferre, in binding up the injuries sustained by the revolutionaries. They were understandably subdued.


End file.
